Sweenett Fanfictions
by TADTD
Summary: Our beloved demon barber of Fleet Street is sent M-Rated Sweenett Fanfictions in a series of letters. How will he find out who is writing these stories and how will it effect his and Mrs Lovett's lovelife? A re-write of a FanFic I wrote two years ago.
1. The First Letter

It really did satisfy him. Sliding his silver razor across the vulnerable, bare throat of another one of his unfortunate customers and watching them take their very last breath. He liked the thought of their families being taken away from them, just like his had those many years ago. He liked the control; watching them hit the cold, hard floor of the baker house with a crack gave him some sort of cruel, sick pleasure. However, it didn't satisfy him enough and he wouldn't be completely satisfied until he had his revenge. He thought about it a lot; how he would lure the loathsome Judge back to his shop and what he would say to him before he slit the man's neck. He wanted to drag it out, definitely. He wanted to watch Turpin realise that he was that innocent, virtuous young man he nonchalantly sent away all of those miserable years ago. He wanted him to know that he was the one who did this. He was the one who caused this previously honourable man to now be the murderous serial killer he is. The sound of the barber shop bell quickly snapped him out of his forlorn, miserable thoughts. He decided that this would be his last customer for the day; the shop had been busy and he was somewhat pleased with the money he had made.

After the customer was down the chute and ready to be made into one of Lovett's infamous meat pies, he flipped the open sign on the door to 'closed' and went back to his window to resume with his brooding. He glared at the people outside, walking down gloomy Fleet Street with their happy families. He would give anything to have his family back. His Lucy and his Johanna.

"Sir?" Came a small voice from the shop door. Sweeney inwardly groaned, not looking away from the window. He knew who it was. That damn boy Mrs. Lovett insisted that she should keep.

"What do you want, boy?" He asked, although not sounding interested in the slightest. He was just like Mrs. Lovett as well, entering without knocking and not waiting for permission to come in.

"I've got a letter for you," he answered. Sweeney frowned, turning around and looking at him. He never usually got letters at all.

"Who is it from?"

"I don't know, sir," he said with a shrug, handing it to the barber. Sweeney dismissed Toby from the shop with a small nod, before frowning down at the letter.

He stayed stood up, reading the top of the thin piece of parchment. He didn't recognise the handwriting at all, and a large part of him hoped that it was from Judge Turpin, telling him that he would soon stop by for a shave. However, he realised that there was no name of the sender at the bottom. He furrowed his brow. Why would the letter be anonymous? After a few seconds of questioning thoughts, he slowly read the first paragraph.

_"Dear Mr. S. Todd,_

_ This letter is a story. Not just any story, either. This letter is a FanFiction. A Sweenett FanFiction, to be precise. I hope that you enjoy this story, it has been worked very hard on by myself and took quite a while. It is about you and a certain baker who lives just below your shop. It is a story about what happens when your room becomes infested and you end up having to share a room with her. Rated M."_

Sweeney frowned a lot. More than he had been frowning before. Who the hell would write stories about him and his accomplice?! Who even knew enough about them to do such a thing? What did 'Rated M' mean? And, his shop had never been infested with anything! He considered putting the letter down right then, and storming down to Mrs. Lovett to ask her about it. Although curiosity managed to get the better of him, and he ended up sitting down in his barber chair, reading the letter.

The story wasn't bad at first. It was written quite well, and started with an enraged (and very in-character) Sweeney storming downstairs to the pie maker to tell her about the pesky insects. However, about ten minutes into reading it, a redness had crept it's way across his cheeks, which was a massive contrast compared to his usual ghost-white complexion.

"I put my what _where_?!" He asked himself, reading with his eyes wide at the absurdity. It definitely wasn't something that had ever happened, and the idea of it was preposterous.

"Oh my god," he muttered, his lips dry and slightly parted. He seemed to be reading a very dirty and very explicit story about him and Mrs. Lovett. He had never read anything like this before- he had never wanted to! He carried on reading, though. Not even thinking to stop. After a while, he had finished the bottom line, and was staring blankly at the parchment. He wasn't as angry as he probably should of been. Did he _like_ reading it?

'No, of course not!' He thought to himself, going over the story-line in his head. He slumped down in his chair, rubbing his forehead with his hand. Although he hadn't asked to read this vile piece of fiction, he really did feel guilty. He knew that he should of stopped as soon as he knew what it was about. 'What happens when your shop becomes infested and you end up sharing a room with Nellie.' Of course that inferred something erotic. And, who the hell would right this anyway? He knew that it wasn't Toby, the boy was about ten years old for heaven's sake! Anthony was definitely too... upstanding to have written it. The only other person who he could think of was Mrs Lovett herself!

He groaned, shaking his head to himself and hoping that this was some kind of weird dream. But, no. He knew that this was real life and he knew that somebody had written a downright explicit story about him and his landlady. He got up, throwing the letter into the old chest in the corner of the room. He had some questions that needed to be answered. He left his shop, hastily going to Mrs Lovett's. When he entered, he saw that she was sat down at one of the shop tables with Toby, two tumblers of gin and a bottle in-between them. They both looked at him, quickly going silent. Mrs. Lovett looked quite dumbfounded. He hardly ever came downstairs at all, what could he possibly want?

"I need to talk to you," said Sweeney, not sounding as threatening as usual. He inwardly kicked himself, realising this. He swallowed, starting to feel his face become hotter than usual.

"About what?" Asked Mrs. Lovett, smiling at him. Fortunately, she didn't seem to notice. Sweeney didn't move, narrowing his eyes slightly and thinking. He didn't want to say anything about the content of the letter, he just wanted to know if she had been the one who had written it.

"Erm, have you sent any letters recently?" He asked, watching her carefully.

"No, I don't think I have, love," she frowned, "why do you ask?" she said, tilting her head slightly. He tried to find any indication that she was lying on her face, but failed. Sweeney ignored her question and glanced at Toby, who was looking at him with as much confusement as she was.

"Right," he said, looking away in thought.

"Are you alright?" She asked him, still frowning slightly. He grunted in response, turning around and leaving again.

Their short conversation made it seem like she hadn't written the letter, which was quite surprising to him. Who else could have done?

''Or maybe, perhaps, she was lying?'' He asked himself, climbing the cold, metal steps to his shop.

When he got back he halted right at the door, looking at the floor in front of him.

It was another letter.

* * *

**Yes, this is a re-written Fanfiction that I wrote over a year ago. I know that lots of people where against it, but I deleted the last one because I think that this version is written better and makes more sense. As much as I understand, please try not to complain.**

**I decided to change to laptop to actual letters, as well.**

**This will be updated every weekend until it is finished, I promise you. (I hope I won't regret writing that)**

**If you want, leave a review of what you would like to see happen or what you liked most. I love reading them :)**

**Follow my Sweeney Todd roleplay account on Twitter: BloodAndRazors**

**Follow my Sweeney Todd roleplay account on : SweeneyyyToddd**


	2. Complete Awkwardness

The following days were particularly awkward, of course. Whenever Mr Todd left the shop, he always came back to find another letter waiting for him; he still didn't know who was writing them! He had only read that first FanFiction that he had been sent. The old chest in the corner of the shop that once contained that dreadful Italian's dead body now contained a small pile of fictional erotica. Did the writer even expect him to read them all?

Now, he couldn't even look at Mrs Lovett without turning a furious shade of red, and had resorted to avoiding her as much as possible.

''Is everything alright, love?'' She asked him one morning, when taking up his breakfast, ''you seem to be ignoring me even more that usual,''

''I'm fine,'' he growled, trying to distract himself from her by glaring at everyone and anyone who were walking outside of his window, not wanting to face her.

''Well, if you say so,'' she muttered, leaving the breakfast tray on the vanity and turning to walk back out of the door.

He would have to ask her at some point...

''Erm, Mrs Lovett?'' He called after her, but only just loud enough for her to hear. He finally turned around to face her.

''Yes, Mr T?'' She asked, turning back to him. She frowned at how uncomfortable he looked.

''H-Have you been sent any letters recently?'' He asked her, quietly.

''What?'' She was confused. She had never, ever heard the demon barber of Fleet Street stutter and why would he even care about who she was talking to?

''You heard me,''

''Erm, yes. Why do you care?'' She asked, her head slightly tilted.

''Who has been sending you letters?'' He replied, impatiently, not answering her question. He was very worried, now.

''My friends. You may not have a social life, but I certainly do, Mr T," she answered, frowning slightly.

''Oh, never mind,'' he said, resigned and turning back to the window. He knew that he probably wouldn't get any more answers..

"Alright then,'' she said with a shrug, turning around and making her way back to her own shop.

Sweeney scowled after she had gone and began pacing at his shop window. He was so angry at himself! All he could think about were those bloody letters. Usually, he spent his precious time plotting his revenge for the Judge. The Judge needed to be killed but the thought of someone writing these obscene stories was really stopping him from thinking properly. How could he find out who was writing them? He scowled, knowing that there were more important things to think about than that. Why should he let it get to him, when he had a shop to run and a murder to fulfil? He tried to think of his wife. His beautiful, blonde wife that he fell in love with and married at such a young age. The only happy memories in his life were with her and after Johanna was born his life seemed to be perfect. Ah yes, Johanna. His beautiful daughter that looked so much like Lucy even as a baby. He wondered what she was doing now and he wondered whether she was as pretty as he imagined her to be. Johanna was probably unhappy as well, just like him. She was being held captive by- in his eyes, the most despicable, detestable man in the world and maybe, he hoped, when Turpin had died she would be able to live in happiness with Anthony for the rest of her life. He sighed, stopping with his pacing.

Maybe if he read the letters he could deduce who had written them. He inwardly kicked himself for letting his mind wander off the subject of his family. But, then again, it was a good idea. He told himself that he definitely didn't want to read it because of the content of the stories, and before he knew it he was sat in his special barber chair with a handful of letters wedged beside him. He looked down at the second letter he was sent, and slowly read the first paragraph.

_''Dear Mr. S. Todd,_

_ This is the second FanFiction in this string of stories. And yes, it is also about you and a certain pie maker and it is also M rated. This story is a sequel to the last, and is about how that wild night you spent in her bedroom changed your relationship with her..._

Sweeney rolled his eyes. The writer was making it sound like it had actually happened, which was not the case!

He kept reading the rest of the paragraph. He frowned, disappointed that it didn't reveal anything about the person writing it. He went to put the letter aside, but suddenly stopped.

It wouldn't be completely wrong to read the rest of it, would it? It was a story about him, and it was intended for him to read it. He was certainly entitled to. He sat in thought for a while before beginning to read the rest of the parchment. After beginning to read the story (which was just as dirty as the last) he realised that he kind of liked it. He didn't want these things to actually happen, did he? No! Of course he didn't. He tried to tell himself that it was completely normal for a man to like reading this, no matter who the other woman was.

As the story drew to an end he realised that he had infact started to become aroused. Suddenly felt a huge wave of guilt; he shouldn't get pleasure from reading things like this about him and his landlady! It was ludicrous. He would be loyal to his wife, even if she was dead. He shook his head to himself and got up, starting to walk to the chest to put the letters back. The fabric of his trousers rubbed against him too much, though, and he quickly realised how much pleasure the story had actually given him. Mr Todd cursed under his breath, throwing the letters out of sight and slumping back into his chair again. He leaned his head back, closing his eyes. Just one touch wouldn't hurt, would it? He hadn't had any sexual pleasure for years and he couldn't just ignore this accidental erection. He reached his hand down, unbuckling his belt and slowly moving his hand down his trousers to-

"Mr T?" Came Mrs Lovett's chirpy voice as she entered his shop.

Sweeney's hand shot back and he quickly stood up, going completely red. _Shit._

"Are you ok?" She asked, quite concerned. He had been acting rather odd lately...

"Uh. Y-Yeah, fine," he spluttered.

Nellie frowned at his reaction and then noticed that his belt was hanging loose and his trousers looked a lot tighter in_ that_ area. Her eyes shot back up again and she stared him, lightly blushing and her mouth hanging open slightly. She could obviously tell what he had been trying to do. He noticed her looking, and quickly turned around to face the window. There was then a long, awkward silence which seemed to last almost forever.

"W-What do you want?" He suddenly asked, trying to sound like nothing had happened, but failing dramatically.

"I wanted to invite you to dinner with me and Toby tonight, downstairs," she answered quietly, "but I can see that you already have plans of your own..." She smirked very slightly in amusement at her own comment.

Sweeney quickly turned around and glared at her dangerously. He had already buckled his belt back up.

"Shut up," he growled, "I have no plans for tonight,"

"Sorry. It was only a joke," she quickly said, noticing how dangerous he sounded.

Sweeney couldn't help but notice that she was wearing a brand new dress. It was a dark, blood red- his favourite colour. It almost reached the floor, but it definitely complimented her curves. It looked wonderful as it hugged her small, thin body and-

"Will you then?"

Sweeney was snapped out of his..._Disturbing_ thoughts and blinked.

"Will I what?"

"Have dinner with me and Toby,"

"No," he bluntly replied, looking away from her.

"Oh, so you do have other plans..."

"No!" He shouted, "Fine, I will!

Mrs Lovett smiled brightly and squealed, quite childishly, going over to hug him. Her body slightly rubbed against his as she did do, causing him to make a quiet sort of hissing noise. Fortunately, she hadn't seemed to notice.

Dinner with her and Toby. Great.

* * *

**Thank you for getting to the bottom. I hope you liked this chapter, sending me a quick review would mean the world. :)**

**Follow my Sweeney Todd roleplay account on Twitter: BloodAndRazors**

**Follow my Sweeney Todd roleplay account on : SweeneyyyToddd**

**(Yes, I know I write short chapters. Apologies.)**


	3. Dinner and Another Story

Sweeney Todd quite reluctantly shuffled into Lovett's dimly lit, homely kitchen. He knew that he would have to get this over with, but he wasn't even hungry at all- he never was. Sweeney wore his usual frown as he directed his attention towards the middle of the room. There stood an old table, set with a couple of candles and a neat cloth and surrounded by three chairs. One of them was occupied by Toby.

"Where's Mrs Lovett?" He gruffly asked the young boy, making him jump.

"She's just getting the food, sir," he quietly answered, looking down at his hands and wishing that the baker wouldn't leave them alone for too long. Something about the man made Toby a little bit more wary and nervous than he usually was.

"Right," he muttered, sitting on one of the other wooden chairs. They sat in silence for a while, Toby fiddling with the bottom of his shirt and waiting uncomfortably.

"Do you know what we're having?" Sweeney suddenly asked him, after a while. Toby hadn't expected Mr Todd to start talking to him, usually he completely ignored him altogether. But still, it was only polite to give him an answer and Mrs Lovett had mentioned that she would like it if he started trying to talk to Mr Todd more..

"No. I haven't really seen her much, today,"

"You haven't?''

''Well, no.. not really. She's been preparing for tonight, ever since you said you would eat dinner with us," he said quietly, with a shrug. No answer.

"She can't stop talking about you, to be honest,"

Sweeney furrowed his brow, looking at him. Again, they sat in silence for a while, before Mrs Lovett came bustling in, holding a large tray of food, bearing three plates full of dinner and seeming very much her usual cheery self. Their businesses were becoming so popular now that Mrs Lovett didn't have to find the cheapest things on the market to eat whenever she went shopping. Times were definitely still hard, but had drastically improved for them both recently. Not that Sweeney seemed to care much. She was quite surprised to see the moody barber at the table. Sure, he had said that he would come, but she didn't completely think that he would actually turn up. Especially after that little incident earlier on.

"Evening, love," she said, smiling at Sweeney and putting down their plates of Sunday dinner.

Sweeney looked up at her briefly, before apparently deciding that the table cloth was much more interesting to look at.

"Evening".

Mrs Lovett put the tray away and sat down opposite Sweeney and next to Toby. She gave a small sigh of relief; she hadn't managed to sit down all day because of how busy she had been cutting up bodies and making pies in the bake house.

"Toby, I forgot the knives and forks, could you be a love and go and fetch them for me?" She asked the boy.

"Yes, ma'am," he said, before hurrying out of the room. Mrs Lovett looked at Sweeney.

"Good day?" She asked, trying to make conversation.

He grunted in response but she was used to him not answering her questions properly and wanted the night to be nice, so she didn't make such a fuss about it.

He noticed that she was still wearing her new red dress, and had even bothered putting a bit of makeup on, and doing her hair specially. Sweeney furrowed his brow at how he seemed to notice this.

Toby came back in not long later, and placed the knives and forks on the table.

"Should I get us some drinks out of the cabinet?" He asked her.

"Yes, actually love," she said, before looking at Sweeney, "what do you want to drink, Mr T?"

"Gin," he replied, almost immediately.

"Get us three glasses of gin then, please," she said brightly.

Toby nodded with a smile, glad that she was letting him have a drink. As instructed, he got their drinks and poured out their glasses, before sitting back down again.

"Thank you, love," she smiled. Toby sat back down.

Mrs Lovett and the young boy started to eat their dinner and seemed to be very much enjoying it as they engaged in conversation. Todd only picked at his.

"You not hungry, love?" She asked him, frowning. He shrugged, looking at his food, eating it slowly.

Mrs Lovett rolled her eyes, and sighed. "You are allowed to talk, you know."

''Nothing to talk about," Sweeney replied. He didn't look at her but she could hear the slight harshness in his voice. Mr Todd drank his gin instead of eating more, hoping that this awful dinner time with them would end soon. He wished that he hadn't agreed to it at all.

"Mum, do you need me to go to the market for you tomorrow?" Toby said after a few minutes, breaking the silence and looking up hopefully at her.

"No, we seem to have everything we need for the shop,"

"Are you sure?" He questioned, looking somewhat disappointed.

"Yes, dear,"

Mrs Lovett frowned slightly at his reaction, but decided not to take too much notice. After she and Toby had finished their dinner (the barber had left half of his), she served her and Toby a wonderful strawberry trifle. Toby wolfed his down, deciding that it was the best thing that he had ever eaten and making Mrs Lovett smile when he told her so. Still, Mr Todd sat in silence drinking more gin.

"Toby, who gave you that letter to give to me?" Sweeney very suddenly and very quietly asked the boy, not wanting Mrs Lovett to hear at all. As he had been sat watching the two smile and eat together he decided that he needed some more answers about the stories. Unfortunately though, Mrs Lovett heard him and interrupted before Toby could give him an answer.

"What letter?" She immediately interjected, curiously looking at Mr Todd. Was it something to do with when he had asked her if she had sent any letters recently?

"Nothing," Toby answered for him, before abruptly drinking his last inch on gin and standing up, "I'm going to bed, thank you for the lovely dinner."

Sweeney frowned at how suddenly he had gotten up to leave without giving him an answer. That brat! But before he could do anything about it, Toby was out of the door.

"Who's been sending you letters?" Mrs Lovett asked, getting up and piling up the plates to take out.

"Doesn't matter," Sweeney muttered, getting up and leaving the shop. Lovett frowned, unsatisfied at his answer and sad that he had also left so suddenly. She shrugged to herself, beginning to clear the table.

Nellie got up the next morning a lot earlier than usual to get the food ready for customers and to open up the shop. By mid-day, she had already sold almost three large trays of meat pies and almost all of the beer had gone. She hoped that she wouldn't run out of meat supply any time soon, because she sure did need it. She knew that she would be busy tonight making even more pies and she was already so tired running around for everyone. Setting two pints of beer down at a table for two gentlemen, she noticed that Toby was sat at the bottom of the steps to Mr Todd's shop, chewing the contents of a large bag of bon bons. Where had he even gotten the money to buy them in the first place? She angrily walked up to him with a faint scowl, waving a tea towel at him.

"Get up and start helping, I can't run this shop by myself!" Toby quickly nodded, shoving the sweets back into his pocket and scrambling to grab another couple of pies to serve. Mrs Lovett sighed at him, shaking her head and rubbing her forehead. She wished that she could take a break from all of this work.

"Ma'am, is Mr Todd in his shop? I need to speak to him," came a familiar voice from behind her. She turned around to be greeted by the sailor who had rescued Sweeney from his miserable years in Australia.

"Yes, he is," she answered with a polite smile, wondering whether it was something to do with Johanna again. Anthony thanked her and went to go to his shop. Mrs Lovett watched him and frowned when she realised what he was holding. A letter.

Meanwhile, Sweeney was also having a very busy and very good day of work. Underneath his barber shop was now a tremendous pile of fresh, bloody corpses. And, almost nobody had come in with their families and prevented him from ending their life! Sweeney had only just finished cleaning up the blood from his previous customer when there was another knock at the door. It was almost as if they wanted to die.

Sweeney smirked slightly at himself before calling, "come in,"

The shop door bell rang and Sweeney looked up to see Anthony stood quite nervously with his hands behind his back. Sweeney frowned, slightly disappointed.

"What do you want?"

"I've been told to give you this," he answered, holding out a letter for him. God dammit.

Sweeney slowly took it, hoping that it wasn't another M-Rated FanFiction. But, as he scanned through the first paragraph, he realised that it was from the same sender. He looked back up at Anthony, a thousand questions in his mind that he wanted to ask.

"Who told you to give me it?" He decided to start of with, scowling. The young man only gave a small shrug.

"Anthony, tell me who-" Sweeney stopped as Anthony suddenly left the shop, slamming the door shut behind him. He quickly went to go after him, but as he stood at the top of the stairs he realised that he had already managed to get away. Where were these bloody letters coming from?!

* * *

**Thanks for sticking with my story, guys! And all of your lovely reviews are so amazing. The more reviews you guys leave, the quicker I will update this. But I promise that it will be within next week. So, tell me what you thought and what you think will happen/ what you want to happen. :)**

**Also, 'NV Berke' decided to make a Facebook group for this FanFic (Which I'm very thankful for), and if you search for 'Sweenett Fanfictions' on there, you will be able to find it and like it. :)**


	4. Inappropriate Dreams

Mrs Lovett stood at the worktable in her shop, pounding some fresh dough with the palms of her small hands. She then moved on to using a rolling pin, beginning to roll it out into a flat shape for the pies. She frowned to herself as she worked, dwelling on the events of the past few days. She wondered why Mr T had asked her twice about letters and why he seemed to care so much, she wondered why Mr T had asked Toby who had given him the letter to give to him and she wondered why Anthony rushed up to Mr T's shop with another letter. What was the content of them and why were they being delivered to Sweeney? She rolled the dough out into the pie cases, forming the base of the food. Is it even something that she should be thinking about? Maybe it shouldn't even matter to her. As she started filling up the pies with previously-grinded human body parts, Toby entered the shop.

"Need any help, mum?" He asked with a smile, going over to her.

"I'm fine at the minute," she smiled back, looking at the small boy with adoration. She really was glad that Sweeney hadn't killed him after killing that dreadful Italian.

"Alright," he answered, sitting down at one of the booths.

Toby watched Mrs Lovett with contentment as she made the pies, humming to herself. However, she soon stopped.

"Toby, why does Mr Todd keep mentioning letters?" She suddenly asked out of nowhere.

"I don't know," he quietly answered.

This made Nellie frown.

"I'm just going out. That's alright, isn't it?" Toby said, quickly standing up.

"I want to know-"

"See you later, then!" Toby interrupted, hurrying out of the shop. Toby usually never did anything without Mrs Lovett's consent, but this time it was very important...

Sweeney was sat in his barber chair, admiring one of his silver razors. Oh, how he adored them. Just the thought of them dripping with precious rubies caused him to smirk darkly, as the small amount of London sunlight reflected off the razor's smooth surface. He almost didn't notice the knocking sound coming from the door. He knew that it was probably Mrs Lovett with a tray of dinner for him, so he didn't even bother to look as he heard the door open and the shop bell chime. He just sat thinking, tilting his 'friend' in his hand and looking at his vague reflection in the metal. After a few minutes of silence, he wondered why he hadn't heard her leave. He sighed.

"Mrs Lovett, what do you-" Sweeney started, averting his eyesight to her and not being able to finish his sentence.

He almost dropped his razor as he stared at her. There, stood right in front of him was Mrs Lovett dressed in nothing but a short, see-through negligee. Mrs Lovett smirked at his expression, moving closer to him. He slowly put his razor down, unable to think. She sat on his lap before he was able to argue, wrapping her slender arms around his neck.

"Mrs Lovett, what are you doing?" He asked, trying to sound threatening but only being able to talk in a quiet whisper.

She put her finger to her lips for a couple of seconds, her smirk not fading.

"Shush, love," she answered, before gently kissing him.

He couldn't help put kiss her back, and soon they were engaged into a deep kiss. However, after a few seconds he realised what he was doing and pulled away.

"Are you crazy?" He frowned, slightly louder than before. What had gotten into her?

"Crazy about you," she sweetly answered, before kissing him again.

How could this be happening?! He didn't pull away for a long while this time, until she started to unbutton his shirt. He grabbed her wrists and his dark eyes locked with hers.

"No," he sternly told her, trying to ignore the growing lump in his trousers.

"Little Sweeney doesn't seem like he wants me to stop," she innocently answered.

He sighed, undoing the buttons himself. She gave a triumphant smirk and began to kiss his neck, causing him to throw his head back. She ran her fingers down his naked chest as she nipped at his neck.

"Mrs Lovett.." He groaned.

"Mr T?"

Sweeney's eyes shot back open and met hers. She was stood in the seemingly greyer room with a tray full of his dinner, frowning down at him at the tone of his voice.

He quickly sat up properly and folded his arms over the uncomfortable hardness that the bloody dream had formed.

"Y-Yeh?" He stammered, staring at her and turning a light shade of red.

"Are you ok?" She asked him, concerned. She kept frowning at him.

He nodded quickly, looking away.

"Why did you say my name like that?" She asked him. Had he been dreaming about her?

He didn't answer her, wishing that she hadn't heard him and hoping that she wouldn't think he was having an erotic dream about her. Which he regrettably was.

"Well, I brought you your dinner," she said with a shrug, looking down at the tray.

"Just put it on the chest," he answered, quietly.

She nodded, and put the tray on the chest in the corner. Sweeney was still red and not looking at her, sitting stiffly. She took one last glance at him again before leaving.

Sweeney loudly cursed, covering his face with his hands. He stayed like that for a while, too embarrassed to do anything. He told himself that he wasn't attracted to her and that the dream was only because he had read those letters. But as he thought about it, he became not so sure...

* * *

**I think this chapter's a bit shorter than the rest (and that's saying something because the rest are already short enough), but I didn't want to add more to it. This chapter's quite dramatic. But next time, I may update a little earlier than usual.. :)**

**Anyway, I think that this is about as M-Rated as it gets, by the way. And if you want, you can tell me in the reviews who you think is writing the FanFictions for Sweeney. :)**


	5. Delousing Treatment

Sweeney opened the shop up and it wasn't long until he had gotten his first customer. It was almost as if they wanted to die. He smirked to himself as he welcomed the man, hoping that today was going to be very busy. He needed something to distract himself from thinking about the pie maker and luckily, because her shop had recently gotten more popular, so had his. Mr Todd took the man's coat from him and offered him a seat in the 'death chair', before unfolding his beloved 'friend' and watching the customer sit down.

"No, I want the delousing treatment," said the man as he saw the demon barber take out his trusty razor.

"The what?" Asked Sweeney, his usual frown becoming more apparent.

"Delousing treatment. The one advertised on your poster,"

"What poster?"

"The one outside of your shop," he answered, "is there a problem, sir?"

Sweeney kept frowning down at the customer.

"I am sorry, but I do not rid lice from people's hair,"

Why had the man asked that? He certainly had not put up a poster outside! Why would he even give a delousing treatment? What did that entail?

"Oh. I suppose I'll just have a shave then," the man said, looking somewhat disappointed and annoyed.

Sweeney nodded, still scowling, and began to give the man a regular shave. Soon, he had slit his throat and stomped on the metal pedal beside the chair, causing him to slide down into the bake house and meet his untimely death. After this, of course, he left his shop to see whether or not there was in fact a poster about delousing treatment. Yes. There, at the bottom of the stairs, was a brightly coloured advertisement.

"Come to Sweeney Todd's Tonsorial Parlour now for a magnificent shave, or (if you are in need) for the all new delousing treatment!"

Sweeney angrily groaned, ripping the poster down and storming into Mrs Lovett's pie shop.

The room seemed to be empty apart from the baker working. All of the customers where outside, then. And they had probably all seen that damn poster.

"What is this?!" He demanded, holding the paper up in front of her as she made more pies at her counter.

Mrs Lovett looked up and furrowed her eyebrows as she read the large text.

"A poster, by the look of it. Why the hell have you started giving a delousing treatment?"

"I haven't! I did not make this poster, Mrs Lovett," he growled in annoyance, slamming it down onto the counter.

"Are you saying that somebody else did? Why would they do that?"

Sweeney rolled his eyes, obviously not knowing the answer himself.

"Well, I need to get back to work and you probably do, as well," she said, shrugging, "let's just hope that nobody else has seen it,"

Sweeney stood glaring at her for a few seconds as she carried on calmly filling up some pies. Damn, she infuriated him. The barber went back upstairs and carried on working.

Sure enough, by the time he had closed the shop, another four people had asked him for the treatment. He sat down in his chair with a sigh of relief after the busy day. It was the first time he had sat down in his chair all day because of how many customers he had gotten. He looked out of the dull, grimy window from where he was sat and soon, the thought of Mrs Lovett began to drift into his mind again. Ever since he had read those damn letters, he seemed to be fantasizing a lot about her. And that was completely terrible- he hated himself for it! He wished that nobody had ever written them. He itched his head as he kept thinking. The damn women had probably put the poster up. He didn't know why she would, though.

Sweeney decided that he needed to clear his head, and he never usually did, but that night he decided to try and get some sleep in his bedroom.

The next morning, Sweeney got up, before scratching his head. That's when a sudden thought came to mind. He remembered about how that first FanFiction he received was about what would happen if Sweeney's shop became infested. God damn it. She had probably written the letters and purposely put the posters up!

After he quickly dressed, he stormed out of his room to go to Mrs Lovett. When he found her, she was curled up her chair in the living room. Her hair was wet from the bath she had probably just taken and she was wearing maybe only her dressing gown. However he ignored this, too angry to care.

"You did put the poster up!" He accused, itching his head again.

"Why would I do that?" She frowned, putting her book down and wondering why he was so angry.

"Who else would do it?" He glared at her.

"I certainly did not, Mr T!" She shouted back, angry that she was being accused of something she didn't do. She frowned when she saw him roughly scratch his head yet again and begin to pace.

"Have you got lice?" She suddenly asked, narrowing her eyes at his hair.

Sweeney stopped and looked at her. his eyes going slightly wider.

"I don't know," he answered after a while, his anger starting to wear off.

Mrs Lovett stood up and walked over to him. Sweeney took a step back.

"What are you doing?"

"I need to check if you have lice, love,"

"It might just be an itch," he frowned, watching her.

"No, no, I need to check," she insisted, putting her hands on her hips, "did you sit in your chair after your customer did?"

Sweeney nodded, annoyed at himself for being so stupid to have done so. Mrs Lovett tutted and went off to rummage through her cupboard.

After a while, Sweeney was sat in a chair and Mrs Lovett was stood over him, pulling through his tangled hair with a weird sort of comb. Sweeney swore multiple times at how rough she was being, but she was still annoyed at him accusing her of putting the advertisement up.

"Damn it, women!" He hissed at the pain.

"It's not my fault you never brush it!" She snapped back, putting a small amount of weird liquid into his hair.

"It wouldn't hurt you to be a bit more gentle!"

After a while, she asked, "did you sleep in your bed last night?" As she rubbed the liquid into his hair and did what he said by being less rough.

"Yes, why?" He asked, hating to admit to himself that he loved the feel of her hands running through his hair.

"You won't be able to sleep in your bed again until your sheets and pillows are rid of the lice, then," she answered, gently massaging the oil into his head.

"I'll sleep in the chair," he replied, trying to forget that she was only wearing her dressing gown.

"You can't until that's rid of the lice, as well,"

Sweeney suddenly looked up at her.

"You'll have to sleep down here or something," she casually said.

Sweeney's jaw dropped. This is exactly what had happened in that first FanFiction.

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**It's getting dramatic!**

**Yet, again, thank you for getting to the bottom. I hope that you liked this chapter, blah, blah, blah..**

**I decided to upload this one a day earlier to try and compensate for how short the chapters are, haha. I hope it doesn't annoy you guys.**

**As always, please, please, please feel free to leave a review. I really love knowing what you guys think :)**


	6. Drinking Game

"What do you mean sleep down here?!" Sweeney argued, his face looking horrified.

"You can't go in your shop or in your bedroom until tomorrow. I'll delouse them a bit later,"

Mrs Lovett finished massaging the liquid into his scalp and ran the fine-toothed comb through his hair once again. It didn't get as tangled this time.

"Where can I sleep, then? Toby sleeps on the sofa," he pointed out.

Mrs Lovett sat in front of him and shrugged.

"We'll think of something. I need to wash your hair, now,"

"I am quite capable of washing my own hair, Mrs Lovett," he answered through gritted teeth, narrowing his eyes at her and trying not to focus on the dressing gown that was still sticking to her slightly damp skin from the bath she had previously had.

She sighed.

"I know that, but I need to ensure that your hair is lice free,"

"Fine, whatever,"

"Wait there. I won't be long," she smiled at him before getting up and going to her bedroom to get dressed.

Sweeney rolled his eyes, sitting back in his seat. He knew that the delousing treatment and the letters were probably linked together somehow. The writer must have written the story (where the shop had become infested and he had to share a room with her) and put up that stupid advertisement in attempt to make the it actually happen. But, why would somebody put all that effort into trying to get them together?

He still had a very large suspicion that it was Mrs Lovett. Sweeney folded his arms and tried to think of another plan to get proof of this accusation. He didn't want to ask her and for it to not be her and then have to give her the letters to read. He scowled to himself as he remembered that in the letter, Mrs Lovett had washed his hair for him. Great.

A while later, Sweeney had his head tipped over the metal bath tub in the bake house and Mrs Lovett was shampooing his black mop of hair.

"Mr. T?" Asked Mrs Lovett, breaking the silence after a while.

"Hmm?"

"Why has Toby been acting weird lately?"

"What do you mean?" He asked, frowning slightly. She hadn't asked that in the story. Sweeney hoped that the baker wouldn't ask any questions regarding the letter.

"He's just been acting a bit suspicious, is all. Suddenly having money without me giving it to him, going outside a lot..."

"Most young boys go outside a lot," he argued, before she could continue any further..

"Yeh, but it's different,"

Sweeney didn't say anything as Mrs Lovett sighed, rinsing out the shampoo.

"Good God, your hair really is a mess," the baker muttered to herself as her slim fingers got entangled into his thick hair.

"And yours isn't?"

"It certainly isn't as bad as yours," she answered, offended.

"I beg to differ,"

"You're a barber!" She snapped, crossing her arms and narrowing her eyes at the back of his head.

"Don't need to do my hair. Don't have time to," he shrugged, looking at her with no expression whatsoever. He knew that he was annoying her and he was rather enjoying it.

"The nerve of him!" She thought, "that bloody man spends his time brooding about things from years and years ago, things that he can't possibly change, and he can't even find the smallest amount of time to actually run a brush through his hair!? It's stupid!"

"You have plenty of time; you just choose to waste it on people that you will never get back! Why can't you just move on, you stupid man?" She shouted loudly back at him.

She knew that she was overreacting, but he really was aggravating her! She kept her eyes narrowed on him. However, when he turned around to darkly and dangerously glare at her, she instantly regretted saying anything at all. Her previous hard expression was suddenly replaced with a flash of fear and worry. She even flinched as she waited for cold metal to come into contact with her pale neck. But the razor didn't come.

"M-Mr T, I'm sorry," she said after she had realised that she had definitely said the wrong thing. But Sweeney sat scarily still, not averting his eyes at all. Nellie stood frozen, waiting for him to snap at her or do something else of the sort. But he didn't.

Instead, he just slowly got up and grabbed the towel to dry his hair with. He looked away.

"I'm going to get a drink," he answered, leaving the bake house and leaving her on her own.

Mrs Lovett's lip trembled slightly as she stood there without him. It wasn't long later until she began to wonder why he was taking so long. She decided to go and see where he was and she really hoped that he hadn't gone back to his shop.

"Mr T?" She called, wondering into her pie shop. He was sat with a bottle of gin and a tumbler, his hair still damp. Toby was in a different booth and he seemed to be out cold. He had probably been drinking too much alcohol again.

Sweeney didn't look at her. Instead, he stared blankly at his half-full glass, not saying a word.

Mrs Lovett sighed and went to fetch herself her own tumbler before sitting next to the psychotic barber.

"I had to take the bottle off Toby," he said, his voice still and low.

Mrs Lovett nodded, filling up her tumbler with the translucent liquid. She was quite surprised that he had actually said something.

"Are you already on your second glass?" She asked, a faint frown appearing.

"Maybe," he said with a shrug, finishing the remains.

"You don't want to end up like Toby,"

"I won't," he mumbled, filling up his glass again.

"Whatever you say,"

Then came another long silence. Mrs Lovett didn't mind it, though. She was quite content with sitting in silence as she was at least having a drink with him. She never even got to speak to him unless she was taking food up to his shop for him, and those conversations were usually heavily one-sided anyway.

By the time Sweeney has finished his fifth tumbler and poured his sixth, Mrs Lovett had only just finished her second.

"You trying to get drunk or something?" She asked, arching an eyebrow.

Sweeney shook his head, filling up her glass for her.

"You drink slow, pet," he stated, glancing up at the baker.

"You're drinking too fast,"

"Am not," he answered, although there was a slight slur to his voice and he probably was now starting to get drunk.

Mrs Lovett raised the glass to her plump lips, taking a tentative sip.

"Down it," dared Sweeney suddenly, watching the woman.

"I'm not downing it, love,"

"Do it,"

Mrs Lovett looked at him for a few seconds before a small smirk played on her lips. She drank all of the liquid in one gulp and pulled a face as it burned her throat. But, she slammed the glass back down onto the table.

"There," she said, looking quite satisfied with herself.

Sweeney raised an eyebrow, before downing his as well.

"Not bad. But not a good as me," she joked with a slight laugh.

"I'm not 'aving a drinking com'tition with woman, Lovett," he slurred.

"It's fine, I'd win anyway,"

Sweeney glowered at her, filling up her glass again.

"Yah wouldn't,"

"Prove it,"

"Fine,"

After about half an hour later and another bottle of gin later, Sweeney and Nellie were definitely and absolutely intoxicated. Sweeney had completely forgotten everything and he was actually kind of enjoying his time with Mrs Lovett. But most importantly, Sweeney had completely forgotten about how they had both gotten drunk before going to the bedroom in the FanFiction...

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**As you guys from my Twitter probably know, I haven't updated this in a couple of weeks because my laptop charger broke. But, I got it fixed so now it's back to a chapter every Sunday. :)**

**I'm a bit unsure about this chapter; I didn't particularly like it that much. I do hope that you did, though. **

**Thanks for sticking with this Fic.**


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